Hearing this, fair Damayanti—all abandoned to her grief.
Thinking still that he was Nala—to Kesinia spake again.
"Go, Kesinia, go, examine—Vahuca, and all his acts,
Silent take thy stand beside him—and observe whate'er he does;
Nor, Kesinia, be there given him—fire his labours to assist:
Neither be there given him water—in thy haste, at his demand:
All, when thou hast well observed him—every act to me repeat,
Every act that more than mortal—seems in Vahuca, relate."
Thus addressed by Damayanti—straight Kesinia went again,
Of the tamer of the horses—every act observed, came back;
Every act as she had seen it—she to Damayanti told:
Every more than mortal wonder—that in Vahuca appeared.
Kesinia spake.
"Very holy is he, never—mortal man, in all my life,
Have I seen, or have I heard of—Damayanti, like to him.
He drew near the lowly entrance—bowed not down his stately head;
On the instant, as it saw him—up th' expanding portal rose.
For the use of Rituparna—much and various viands came;[131]
Sent, as meet, by royal Bhima—and abundant animal food.
These to cleanse, with meet ablution—were capacious vessels brought;
As he looked on them, the vessels—stood, upon the instant, full.
Then, the meet ablutions over—Vahuca went forth, and took,
Of the withered grass a handful—held it upward to the sun:
On the instant, brightly blazing—shone the all-consuming fire.
Much I marvelled at the wonder—and in mute amazement stood;
Lo, a second greater marvel—sudden burst upon my sight!
He that blazing fire stood handling—yet unharmed, unburned, remained.
At his will flows forth the water—at his will it sinks again.
And another greater wonder—lady, did I there behold:
He the flowers which he had taken—gently moulded in his hands,
In his hands the flowers, so moulded—as with freshening life endued,
Blossomed out with richer fragrance—stood erect upon their stems:
All these marvels having noted—swiftly came I back to thee."
Damayanti spake.
Damayanti when these wonders—of the king of men she heard,
Thought yet more king Nala present—thought her utmost wish achieved.
Deeming still her royal consort—in the form of Vahuca,
With a gentle voice and weeping—to Kesinia spake again:
"Go, again, Kesinia, secret—and by Vahuca unseen,
Of those viands bring a portion—by his skilful hand prepared:"
She to Vahuca approaching—unperceived stole soft away
Of the well-cooked meat a morsel—warm she bore it in her haste,
And to Damayanti gave it—fair Kesinia, undelayed.
Of the food prepared by Nala—well the flavour did she know;
Tasting it she shrieked in transport—"Nala is yon charioteer."
Trying then a new emotion—of her mouth ablution made:[132]
She her pair of infant children—with Kesinia sent to him.
Soon as he young Indrasena—and her little brother saw,
Up he sprang, his arms wound round them—to his bosom folding both;
When he gazed upon the children—like the children of the gods,
All his heart o'erflowed with pity—and unwilling tears broke forth.
Yet Nishadha's lord perceiving—she his strong emotion marked,
From his hold released the children—to Kesinia speaking thus:
"Oh! so like mine own twin children—was yon lovely infant pair,
Seeing them thus unexpected—have I broken out in tears:
If so oft thou comest hither—men some evil will suspect,
We within this land are strangers—beauteous maiden, part in peace."
BOOK XXIV.
Seeing the profound emotion—of that wisest king of men,
Passing back in haste, Kesinia—told to Damayanti all:
Then again did Damayanti—mission to Kesinia give,
To approach her royal mother—in her haste her lord to see.
"Vahuca we've watched most closely—Nala we suspect him still;
Only from his form we doubt him—this myself would fain behold.
Cause him enter here, my mother—to my wishes condescend;
Known or unknown to my father—let it be decided now."
By that handmaid thus accosted—then the queen to Bhima told
All his daughter's secret counsel—and the raja gave assent.
Instant from her sire the princess—from her mother leave obtained,
Bade them make king Nala enter—in the chamber where she dwelt.
Sudden as he gazed upon her—upon Damayanti gazed,
Nala, he was seized with anguish—and with tears his eyes o'erflowed.
And when Damayanti gazed on—Nala, thus approaching near,
With an agonizing sorrow—was the noble lady seized.
Clad, then, in a scarlet mantle—hair dishevelled, mire-defiled,[133]
Unto Vahuca this language—Damayanti thus addressed:
"Vahuca beheld'st thou ever—an upright and noble man,
Who departed and abandoned—in the wood, his sleeping wife?
The beloved wife, and blameless—in the wild wood, worn with grief?
Who was he who thus forsook her?—who but Nala, king of men?
To the lord of earth, from folly—what offence can I have given?
That he fled, within the forest—leaving me, by sleep oppressed?
Openly, the gods rejected—was he chosen by me, my lord:
Could he leave the true, the loving—her that hath his children borne!
By the nuptial fire, in presence—of the gods, he clasped my hand,
'I will be,'[134] this truth he plighted—whither did he then depart?"
While all this in broken accents—sadly Damayanti spoke,
From her eyes the drops of sorrow—flowed in copious torrents down.
Those dark eyes, with vermeil corners—thus with trembling moisture dewed,
When king Nala saw, and gazed on—to the sorrowful he spake.
"Gaming that I lost my kingdom—'twas not mine own guilty deed,
It was Kali wrought within me—hence it was I fled from thee;
Therefore he, in th' hour of trial—smitten by thy scathing curse,
In the wild wood as thou wanderest—grieving night and day for me,
Kali dwelt within my body—burning with thy powerful curse,
Ever burning, fiercer, hotter—as when fire is heaped on fire.
He, by my religious patience—my devotion, now subdued,
Lo! the end of all our sorrows—beautiful! is now at hand.
I, the evil one departed, hither have made haste to come;
For thy sake, O round-limbed! only;—other business have I none.
Yet, O how may high-born woman—from her vowed, her plighted lord,
Swerving, choose another husband—even as thou, O trembler, would'st?
Over all the earth the heralds—travel by the kings command,
'Now the daughter of king Bhima—will a second husband choose,
'Free from every tie, as wills she—as her fancy may beseem,'
Hearing this, came hither speeding—king Bhangasuri in haste."
Damayanti, when from Nala—heard she this his grievous charge,
With her folded hands, and trembling—thus to Nala made reply:
"Do not me, O noble-minded—of such shameless guilt suspect,
Thou, when I the gods rejected—Nala, wert my chosen lord.
Only thee to find, the Brahmins—went to the ten regions forth,
Chaunting to their holy measures—but the words that I had taught.
Then that Brahmin wise, Parnada—such the name he bears, O king,
Thee in Kosala, the palace—of king Rituparna saw.
There to thee, my words addressed he—answer there from thee received.
I this subtle wile imagined—king of men, to bring thee here.
Since, beside thyself, no mortal—in the world, within the day,
Could drive on the fleetest coursers—for a hundred Yojanas.
To attest this truth, O monarch!—thus I touch thy sacred feet;
Even in heart have I committed—never evil thought 'gainst thee.
He through all the world that wanders—witness the all-seeing wind,[135]
Let him now of life bereave me—if in this 'gainst thee I've sinned:
And the sun that moveth ever—over all the world, on high,
Let him now of life bereave me—if in this 'gainst thee I've sinned.
Witness, too, the moon that permeates—every being's inmost thought;
Let her too of life bereave me—if in this 'gainst thee I've sinned.
These three gods are they that govern—these three worlds, so let them speak;
This my sacred truth attest they—or this day abandon me."
Thus adjured, a solemn witness—spake the wind from out the air;
"She hath done or thought no evil—Nala, 'tis the truth we speak:
King, the treasure of her virtue—well hath Damayanti kept,
We ourselves have seen and watched her—closely for three livelong years.
This her subtle wile she plotted—only for thy absent sake,
For beside thyself no mortal—might a hundred Yojanas drive.
Thou hast met with Bhima's daughter—Bhima's daughter meets with thee,
Cast away all jealous scruple—to thy bosom take thy wife."
Even as thus the wind was speaking—flowers fell showering all around:[136]
And the gods sweet music sounded—on the zephyr floating light.
As on this surpassing wonder—royal Nala stood and gazed,
Of the blameless Damayanti—melted all his jealous doubts.
Then by dust all undefiled—he the heavenly vest put on,
Thought upon the King of Serpents—and his proper form resumed.
In his own proud form her husband—Bhima's royal daughter saw,
Loud she shrieked, the undespised—and embraced the king of men.
Bhima's daughter, too, king Nala—shining glorious as of old,
Clasped unto his heart, and fondled—gently that sweet infant pair.
Then her face upon his bosom—as the lovely princess laid,
In her calm and gentle sorrow—softly sighed the long-eyed queen:
He, that form still mire-defiled—as he clasped with smile serene,
Long the king of men stood silent—in the ecstacy of woe.
All the tale of Damayanti—and of Nala all the tale,
To king Bhima in her transport—told Vidarbha's mother-queen.
Then replied that mighty monarch—"Nala, his ablutions done,
Thus rejoined to Damayanti—I to-morrow will behold."
Vrihadasva spake.